No redemption for it now. Too far in to turn back. Too early to see the light. Fingers pruned from washing off jewel toned dust.
My model, the magnificent Brenda, was feeling the crisp of a Canadian winter. Grabbing a teen boy's plaid flannel shirt brought her back to warmth. We had tarted her up with overdone, exaggerated, woman paint for the next series of photographs. Decisions. Include the lumberjack plaid peeking through her hair? Cover her in butterfly wings and gold leaf. I'll take ideas. Open to wild whims. Bring it on. Before she wears the plaid. No promises, but I'm open to anyones' whimsy, imaginings, notions.
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